


i want you to make the days move easy

by ghostwit



Category: One Piece
Genre: A snip of one of those doomerfic where everyone drinks bad beer., Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Fist clench. Non-standard intimacy., Implied Sexual Content, Intimacy, Light Masochism, M/M, Minor Injuries, Not really a char study but not particularly plot heavy either., Oh. That's not a huge deal but like. It's there., Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-19 04:55:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22038838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostwit/pseuds/ghostwit
Summary: (If I wanted someone to clean me up, I'd find myself a maid.)The bathtub is still warm. Kid draws his knees up to his chest, back plastered to white linoleum with a thin film of water that makes this awful little splotch noise when he does. Killer turns a page in his novel, and Kid crosses his legs, lays his calf over one of his knees, watches his partner with a restless shake running through the limb.
Relationships: Eustass Kid/Killer
Comments: 10
Kudos: 28





	i want you to make the days move easy

**Author's Note:**

> Not to be reusing things but... "Why must my feelings be “rational”? Is it not enough to sit quietly in my hawaiian shirt, deranged?"

The bathtub is still warm. Kid draws his knees up to his chest, back plastered to white linoleum with a thin film of water that makes this awful little  _ splotch _ noise when he does. Killer turns a page in his novel, and Kid crosses his legs, lays his calf over one of his knees, watches his partner with a restless shake running through the limb. When Kid reaches for a towel, drapes the off-white cloth around his shoulders, Killer looks up, thumb pressed against his tongue to slick it for the next page. Just for a second, though. 

Kid reaches out--oh, he's due to repaint his nails--Killer's seat over the closed lid of the toilet close enough that he brushes his bare knees with his nails, and a bottle of beer is pressed wordlessly into his palm, displaced from its precarious vantage on the rim of the sink. It's half empty, label peeling and liquid made warm from the steam of the room, but Kid tips his head back nonetheless. 

Green shards scatter, catch the light and twinkle with promise even as they embed themselves in skin, some slipping lamely down the slick side of the tub and nestle against Kid's bare side, neglecting the art of their flashy brethren. A little bit of amber liquid slips, too, making the bits of glass shift and follow, sliding along the curve of Kid's body and towards the drain. The crash is loud enough to overpower the tinny rock playing from a phone dropped casually (face-down) in the sink, the shape of the bowl making the music echo and warp. Killer's book is closed, now. He plucks a piece of glass the size of his pinky from right below his knee, where the skin is soft and hairless, blood spurting weakly from the fresh wound. Kid laughs when it flies at him, catching him in the ear and landing on the tile behind him. 

“Crazy fucker,” Killer spits out, trying not to get caught in Kid’s undercurrent. Kid bites his lip, holding back laughter, ears still ringing with the crash of the bottle against the tub. “You need help.” He’s on his feet, brushing off his legs of shiny particulate (which Kid reaches out to catch, Killer rewards him with a dismissive slap to his fingers) and stepping through the open door. 

“What do you think you’re here for!” He cackles after him, leaning part way out of the tub to watch him through the doorway. The action digs some glass along the seam of his ribs, but he can’t resist the subtle sway of his partner’s hair, the shadow it casts over his white t-shirt, jagged and hulking, even tied. 

“Idiot! Don’t move! I’m getting a broom.”   
He props his elbow on the edge of the tub to rest his grin against his hand. 

Kid lays on his stomach on their bed, head down, smothering himself. “‘m not drunk enough for this.” he groans, mostly for the pillow to have something to do. The house, an old Victorian beauty, all latticed verandas and iron-barred windows, left to rot on a New York street corner thumps and sags to what sounds like Heat and Wire beating the shit out of each other with curtain rods, the rest of their housemates gathered around to watch and cheer, very fucking loudly, apparently. Someone’s got a radio on, too, and the grating punk competes with Kid’s own miserable crooner, which he half-assedly mouths the lyrics to. Killer’s still bleeding, seeing it fit to take the tweezer to Kid's sides, roll his tank up over the shallow dips of his ribs and to his armpit, scrutinizing with an attentive eye. 

His worst injury is along his earlobe, all of them addressed with a quick swipe of cloth doused in hydrogen peroxide. He grabs the other’s hands as he finishes, smelling sour and wrinkled from the alcohol, kisses the tips of his fingers. Killer humors him, lets his hands go limp as the other man rolls them between his fingers, ignores the blood drying on his calves for a minute. A kiss to his knuckles turns to a smear, lipstick tacky and fast drying as it rubs into the creases. He can feel the way the force of the gesture unwittingly parts Kid’s lips and he feels the wet of his gums and teeth as he moves his head, back and forth, back and forth, thank you, thank you. With a little grin, Killer digs his nails into Kid's chin, makes the other groan, but he leans back, seemingly taking the hint. Blood smears on their sheets. 

(Kid groans, smile wicked as he reaches up to pull Killer’s head to his chest when he sinks to the hilt inside him. Along with adoring fingers parting blonde hair, warmth brushes Killer’s ears. 

“Hey, what if there’s glass insi--”

Killer lands a blow, a full, meaty slap of his palm against the inside of the redhead’s thigh, makes the muscles in his abdomen jump and go tight. He moans loud, tittering off into laughter.)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a universe I probably won't revisit, despite its potential, but writing it sure was something.
> 
> Please leave a comment or something if you enjoyed or have any feedback whatsoever! Thank you for reading.
> 
> hazeism.tumblr.com


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